Breaking Elle

by Antoinette Candela

  “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable by touching you,” he says. “My momma always told me to be a gentleman.” His eyes sparkle at the mention of his mother.

  His Texas accent is addictive. It takes everything I can do to break away from his gaze. “You don’t need to apologize.” I grin, hoping I’m able to hide the fact that I actually like his touch. “And I don’t feel uncomfortable. For God sakes, you’re a Cowboys fan. How many Cowboys fans are you going to meet in New England?” A mystifying smile lights up his face as I lightly jab his arm, hoping to minimize the sexual tension that’s floating between us.

  “Great,” he says, turning in the direction of the park, “it’s this way.” He jams both hands in the pockets of jeans and looks over his shoulder, waiting for me to catch up to him.

  As we walk in the direction of the park. I’m thinking that I can do this. Just pretend he’s a long lost friend and not a gorgeous Texas cowboy with an amazing body, hypnotizing eyes, and a perfect smile. Just a friend, I tell myself again, and again.

  “Linden Park? I haven’t been here in so long. I loved coming here when I was a kid.” I whisper in awe, opening the black wrought iron gate and admiring all of the changes made over the years. I see new wooden benches, a trellis covered in blooming roses, and a gazebo with colorful lights hanging from the handrails. I can see why he picked this spot. It’s away from everything, separated by large magnolia trees, and blossoming rose bushes. We’ve stepped into another world.

  “I love it tonight.” He replies. I risk a look out of the corner of my eyes, catching his piercing blue eyes firmly on me. This guy is not shy, is he? I smile, thankful that it’s getting dark so he won’t notice the blush in my cheeks. Even though I’m a little nervous about being alone here with him, I can’t let him see that.

  “Something bothering you?” He asks respectfully. His voice washes over me like an ocean wave, tickling my ears and making my body shiver.

  I glance up at the night sky dotted with sparkling stars, acutely aware of the guy standing barely two feet away from me. “Oh, no. Just remembering how I used to come here all the time, I can’t believe how time flies.” I hope he didn’t catch the tremor in my voice. Realizing I have to get the focus off me, I ask, “So, how do you like Boston so far?” I find a bench and sit down, kicking off my flip-flops, and putting some distance between him and the tension that’s growing between us.

  “It’s been great as of today,” he replies softly. He smiles, and takes a seat just inches from me, his forearm brushing against my arm. Well, this closeness doesn’t help. The heat coursing through my body makes me feel like a lit match. I cross my legs, tugging on my skirt that seems to get shorter each time as Reed’s eyes slide up my legs.

  This guy obviously doesn’t care that I’m in a relationship, or maybe guys from Texas act overly friendly and forward. I have no problem getting to know someone, but I’m not used to his way of accomplishing that. I’m a little nervous because, since I’ve been with Cane, I haven’t been attracted to anyone else. A breeze whispers across my face as I stare at my hands. I debate what to do next, and peek at him as he sweeps his hair from his face. He smiles and anxiously bites his lower lip before he speaks.

  “So, besides the Cowboys, what other things do you like?” He leans in, clearly interested in what I have to say. I lean my head back, feeling my hair caress my shoulders as he waits for me to answer.

  “I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me what I liked. I’ll have to think for a second.” I pause, grinning. “Umm, I love nights like this. I love puppies, the ocean.” I reply, closing my eyes while imagining all of these things. The roses fill the air with a sweet smell and for a minute, I forget where I am. This place is calming and serene. “What about you?” He’s quiet for a minute. When I realize he hasn’t answered my question, I open my eyes and look over to see he’s leaning in closer, his face inches from mine. What’s he doing? He smells so good. My heart thumps inside my chest, goose bumps dance on my skin. I don’t move. His eyes drift over my lips, and he pulls away as if realizing how close he is to me.

  “Yes, I love the ocean, too,” he replies softly, slowly sitting up. “And I have a puppy back home. His name is Cooper. I didn’t bring him with me; my mom needed him with her more.” His drawl is warm and full of admiration when he mentions his mom again. His toughness, his size, and his various tattoos cannot hide the connection he has with his mother.

  “Cooper. Cute name. What kind of dog is he?” I ask, wanting to know more about him.

  “Golden Retriever.” He smiles, seeming to think about his friend that he had to leave back home. “I’ve had him since college. He’s my little partner in crime. I’ve always loved dogs. I’d wanted one since I was a little kid. But Momma didn’t want to get one because she thought it would be too much responsibility. She knew she would end up having to taking care of it even though I promised I would.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “She was right to think that! Even now, I have a hard time keeping up with him.” He tilts his head, his eyes curious. “What about you?”

  Jace and I always wanted one, but after our parents’ divorce, everything changed. My dad promised to get us one, but when he left, I had no interest because it would remind me of his broken promises. I didn’t want or need a dog anymore. I just needed my family back the way it was. We weren’t the typical family like the others in the neighborhood anymore. We were a broken family. I mean I still had my parents. They just weren’t together, didn’t live in the same house, and didn’t sleep in the same bed. The divorce shattered me into a million pieces.

  “No, never had a dog,” I reply, staring at my hands. It seems like any topic lately triggers a bad memory from my childhood. I look up again, but stare straight ahead, not wanting to face the questions I know are in his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” His voice is rich and smooth like honey.

  “I’m fine.” I look over and meet his eyes. There’s something soft in them now, something that I didn’t see in them before. “I would’ve named him Douglas.” I smile at the memory. Jace and I fought about what to name our dog for week, and finally agreed upon Douglas. Picking the name was a step closer to getting him, but around that time, things started to go downhill with my parents. Getting a dog didn’t seem as important to me anymore. Douglas had to wait.

  “Douglas. I like that. Good dog name.” He laughs softly, leaning back, and throwing his arm behind his head. He grins, his smile traveling to his eyes. “What kind of dog would you get?”

  “I never really thought about it.” I pause, twirling my hair in thought. “I’m thinking maybe a Jack Russell Terrier. Since I like to run, I would like my dog to be able to keep up with me.” I grin, my sadness slowly seeping away. Talking to him seems effortless; I’ve never experienced something quite like this before.

  “Maybe you can have that dog one day and name him Douglas,” he says, cracking a reassuring smile.

  “Maybe,” I say, rising from the bench. I slip on my flip-flops, watching the petals from the magnolia trees blanket the grass at my feet. I need to shake the memories away and focus on the present.

  “Is there anything else you want to know about me besides my dog? If we’re gonna be friends, you should ask me more than that, don’t ya think? I won’t bite. Ask me anything.” I turn, and he smiles charmingly. His eyes slowly take me in as he waits for me to speak. This guy has a lot of weapons. I can only imagine how single girls react to him, how any girl reacts to him for that matter. I look at him, trying to focus on something to ask when I catch sight of the tattoo on his arm.

  Tattoo. You can learn something about someone through a tattoo. There’s always a story, a history, some kind of pain, something so significant that they want a stamp permanently on their body to remind them of it. I don’t know if I should ask, though; there may be a chance that the tattoo is a reminder of something upsetting. I’m nervous but ask anyway. “I noticed you have a tattoo on your arm?” I exhale softly,
meeting his eyes to gage his reaction. For a second I see sadness, but he masks is and I wish I could take my question back.

  “This one?” He stands, and pulls up his sleeve, taking a small step closer to me.

  Why? Could he possibly have more?

  “Yes,” I try not to imagine where the other tattoos could be on his body, and have to look away from him to get the vision out of my head.

  “I don’t think you can see it too well from where you are.” He grins, watching me twist my hair. “Like I said, I don’t bite.” He doesn’t have to move closer to me since any distance makes me feel anxious. My body is defying my mind, making me feel and do things I shouldn’t.

  I step towards him as he shifts his body so that the lights from the gazebo fall perfectly on his arm. It’s difficult not to notice the muscles flexing in his arm, and his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his t-shirt. Before I even know what I’m doing, I trace the tattoo with my finger. His skin is smooth like silk under my touch, his muscles taut and hard. His eyes linger where my finger makes contact; he tries to hide a smile, but his eyes betray him. He obviously didn’t expect me to do that, but he seems to like it.

  “I... um... so what is it?” I drop my hand from his arm and take a small step back. I crossed a line and I know it.

  “It’s the Zodiac sign for Cancer.” He lowers his eyes back to the tattoo, rubbing his hand over it.

  “So, is that your sign?” I ask, instantly feeling like a complete idiot. Did I really just mouth the lamest pick up line in the world or what?

  “Yes.” He doesn’t seem to acknowledge my lame question as he slowly pulls his sleeve back down. The tattoo disappears but the pain in his eyes doesn’t. I see he doesn’t intend to explain, and I won’t ask any further. Of course, now I regret asking him but still wonder what happened, what upsets him about that tattoo? We were doing so well, and now I feel that I should apologize but I don’t know exactly what I did. We stand in uncomfortable silence for a moment when thankfully, my phone rings.

  “You better get that. It could be Cane,” he replies, shoving his hand through his hair and turning away.

  Dazed, I answer, breaking into a smile and turning my back to Reed when I hear Cane’s voice on the other end. My heart rate accelerates knowing that he’s waiting for me at my house. I feel bad leaving Reed here in this mood because of my question, but he didn’t have to answer. I need to go. I want to go. I’m craving Cane’s attention tonight. I hang up the phone and turn back to see Reed pacing back and forth.

  “Sounds like you gotta go.” He finally turns to face me, and cupping the back of his neck, he forces a smile. “I guess Cane got off earlier than he thought.”

  “Yes,” I answer, “but this was nice. I’m glad we did this.”

  “My pleasure,” he replies, as he stands in front of me crossing his powerful arms behind his back.

  “There really is something about this place,” I reply, inhaling the vibrant air to distract me for a minute before I look back.

  “There is,” he murmurs thoughtfully, pinning his eyes on me. I cast my eyes away from his before I answer, crossing my arms across my chest.

  “It seems like you and Cane have hit it off, so if you’re friends with Cane, I guess you’re all right in my book,” I reply. I can’t deny that something about Reed makes me want to get to know him, but I don’t know what it is. He’s different. A shiny new toy and I hope for my sake, that the novelty will wear off. I already have what I need with Cane.

  He continues staring, as I delay leaving. I have to go. I know it and he knows it. “Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I question, smiling softly.

  “Yes, you sure will,” he replies, seeming on the verge of saying more but instead, he drops his head and slides his hands back in his pockets. I wish he would just say whatever it is he wants to say.

  “If there’s anything you need, let me know. Being new in town, you probably don’t know many people here in Boston.” I say, trying to make him smile again to see if he will talk. He may be a stranger to me but I hate the hurt, confused look he has on his face.

  “Thanks for that.” He smiles, breaking the gloom that blanketed his features a minute ago and shooting me his confident smile that I saw earlier today. “It can get lonely being away from home, so it’s nice to make a few more friends up here.” He pauses, peering over at me thoughtfully. “Well, you better get going. Don’t want to keep Cane waiting.” His voice is somewhat cynical, but I’m not going to dig any deeper.

  “Bye,” I say, anxiously twisting my hair.

  “G’night, Elle.” He grins, his eyes sparkling as he sits back on the bench, watching me leave.

  I turn away, no longer questioning why I came here with him, but actually happy that I did.

  She didn’t have to take the walk with me and the fact that she agreed to made my day. It hurt to look at her without being able to touch her. I was trying to be a gentleman, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to force myself to keep my hands in my pockets as much as possible so that I wouldn’t reach out and touch her. But I did. I had to. I know she feels the attraction too by the way she smiled and blushed when I brushed against her arm. It’s not just a physical attraction with her, though. God knows, she’s amazing with that long brown hair, hazel eyes, and those legs that go on forever. I felt something more for this girl than I have for any other girl. She had me the second I laid eyes on her. Spending those few minutes alone with her just locked it in for me. I need to know more. I just have to get to know her.

  Something in her eyes tells me that she’s struggling with something. I could tell right away. I want to know what’s inside her head, for her to tell me, but she has Cane. I didn’t want to be aggressive with her. Damn, how I wish I could be in his shoes. Fucking life has a way of throwing you a curveball. I’m used to getting a lot of those, and I’ve always ended up on top in more ways than one.

  I walk back to my apartment that now seems depressingly empty. I thought I had everything: nice truck, friends, kickass crib, wall-size plasma TV, and cable package with virtually every game televised every hour of the day. It’s every guy’s dream, but none of this shit can replace what I felt with Elle today. I don’t get it. I’ve never been one to hold back on anyone, not afraid to make a move on a girl. Tonight she brought out a different Reed, a Reed that I don’t know. I’m not sure how to handle this shit. I wasn’t looking for this. Do I want to be more than just with her? The fucking idea never crossed my mind until I laid eyes on her. Thing is I don’t mess with girls that already have a man. Maybe I should just break this one rule of mine. It’s a fucked up one, now that I think about it.

  Tossing the keys on the kitchen counter, I grab the remote and stare at the TV, unsure what to do with myself. I’m not in the mood to do anything but sleep. I attempt to get comfortable on the couch, punching the pillow behind my head and closing my eyes. I need to take a nap but can’t seem to do it. I never can fall asleep when I want to, but it’s really bad now because my mind is in overdrive thinking about my family back home and Tommy calling out of the blue. Now I’ve got her in my head, too.

  I have plans to go out tonight and I think that’s what I need to do. Go out, have a couple of beers, watch the Red Sox on TV, and pretend to be a fan like everyone else in Red Sox Nation. It’s fun to watch the intensity and passion they have for their beloved Red Sox. Getting caught up in it is easy, even lost if you really want to. Lost with her? What the fuck am I doing? I’m trying to think about fucking baseball, and somehow I think of her. The whole point of this adventure was to get things out of my system without all the drama from back home. What I do here doesn’t hurt anyone back in Texas. I’m doing this for me. I’ve needed this for so long.

  I had to grow up fast. I became the protector for my mom that my dad wasn’t for so many years. Alcohol seemed to be all he cared about in his life. Growing up, I never saw him much. He was in and out, coming home dead drunk late at night when I was asleep. He couldn
’t keep a job for more than a couple months, so Mom had to work as a nanny, watching other kids while she raised my sister and me. I did my part cleaning out stables, cutting lawns, walking dogs, and just about anything else that I could figure out to do to put food on the table.

  They always fought about the money. That didn’t stop him from taking whatever she had to buy his alcohol, and leaving us with nothing. She was never able to buy me a bike or the doll my sister wanted. I can’t remember how many times I’d heard my mom cry herself to sleep.

  “Hey roomie. I didn’t expect you home so early.” Luke closes the door, throwing his duffel bag full of sweaty gym clothes on the floor. “But now that you’re here, you ready for a crazy night? We can start early.”

  Luke’s cool. I found his ad looking for a roommate on Craigslist. We have a lot in common: working out, girls, and casinos. He likes to gamble and so do I. It comes in handy when I need a quick infusion of cash. Gambling is harmless, but my sister thinks I have an addiction. Alcoholism is a big problem on my dad’s side of the family, and it tore our family apart. Alcohol makes you do stupid shit.

  It only took one time for my dad’s addiction to cross the line with Momma. I saw red at the way he was treating her. I went after him, tackling him to the floor, and knocking him out cold, glad that I was there to put him in his place. I made her get a restraining order so that she and my sister would be safe. I couldn’t promise them that I’d always be there when they needed me. Nobody knew when he would come back around; he was like a ticking time bomb when he was drinking. Dad calls now and then, but only when he needs money. I give it to him because he’s my dad and I want stay in touch with him to make sure that he’s still alive.

  “No doubt. But do me a favor and take care of that sweaty shit in your bag would ya?” I cringe in disgust at the stench wafting in the air.